


Star Bedecked Pyjamas

by handschuhmaus



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vader and Son-ish, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Insomnia, Luke is mischievous, Originally Posted Elsewhere, sleepy Tarkin, the Death Star under construction, yes you do espy a Winnie the Pooh reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:53:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2475503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handschuhmaus/pseuds/handschuhmaus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tarkin takes issue with what Luke has done to his slippers</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star Bedecked Pyjamas

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Insomnia + small Skywalkers + Construction...](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/79856) by handschuhmaus. 



> I drew [a picture](http://darthgingerstig.tumblr.com/post/100347912494/insomnia-small-skywalkers-construction-this) and wrote a fic to go with it... X)

Vader had no idea who could possibly be daring to disturb him at this hour. At least, given it wasn't his son. It was, what, three o'clock in the morning. _Please, let a Sith who often can't sleep very well get what slumber he can undisturbed!_ Surely it wasn't an emergency--well, an emergency here and now, on the Death Star in construction, would likely be a dire one to be dreaded, one that would endanger Luke.

Irritably he shuffled to the door, only to find a grumpy Grand Moff standing there in rather whimsical star covered pyjamas and barefeet, holding his slippers in his hands. One of them was soaking wet and dripping steadily. Behind his mask, the Sith blinked in surprise.  

"...Yes?" he finally managed, any trace of emotional weakness that might have entered his voice scrubbed from it by the vocabulator. 

Tarkin eyed him with very tired eyes indeed and an equally irritated expression. "Your son," he pronounced in short bursts as if his mind was clouded by imminent sleep (which it probably was), "is down in the cafeteria. And Vader, we are going to have a talk. In the morning, after I've _finally_ gotten some sleep. About appropriate places for small children to play," he stared peevishly up into the black mask, which concealed any weariness its occupant might actually feel and thus served only to fuel his irritation. "And to leave their playthings!" he snapped abruptly.

"Leave their playthings?" Vader asked, having been immediately brought to full alertness a few minutes ago by the fearsome prospect of his son coming to harm, even if he had been taken by surprise at the man's appearance. "What do you mean, Tarkin?"

"Blocks!" the Moff exclaimed inarticulately. "Stones! Water balloons!"

"My son does not play with stones," Vader protested, affronted by the notion. "And I cannot imagine where Luke would have gotten water balloons."

"Well, then who do you think did this?" Tarkin burst out, lifting his slippers up into Vader's line of sight.

"I--I wouldn't know," Vader said, confusedly. He wasn't sure what he was meant to be looking at.

Wilhuff huffed at this, and stomped off, though the sounds his bare feet made on the decking were hardly impressive.

**Shortly before:**

Wilhuff Tarkin, so short on sleep as he was, had managed to nod off over his paperwork that night, still completely in uniform. And despite, when he woke up very stiff with a crick in his neck, getting himself a cup of herbal tea that was purportedly soporific or at least calming, donning his comfiest star bedecked pyjamas, and then drinking some blue milk with a spoonful of honey stirred in (which reminded him just then of the bear in the book the little Skywalker boy kept dragging around and reading while plopped down in places where really he shouldn't have been) when that failed to send him off to Nod, sleep remained elusive for some _hours_.

He decided to take a walk. A patrol, he could call it--though really there was no latitude for his "patrolling" in his pyjamas. So he put on his slippers and headed down the hall to a construction area. Something seemed amiss with his slippers, and he was hearing a faint squashing sound, but really at this point his mind was muzzy and he had no idea what significance it should have.

He stopped short at the sight of a paint splatter and a scattering of three blocks on the floor of this bay that was currently under construction. The blocks certainly belonged to Luke Skywalker, the only three-year-old allowed anywhere near the Empire's most fearsome weapon--even when he shouldn't have been, and they were arrayed by a scaffold--and a panel of the wall that had been covered with plastic to protect the wiring until work was finished and the fronting could be installed. Only, part of the plastic was no longer firmly taped to the wall and he could see wires.

The toes of his left foot felt particularly cold and he peered blearily down at his slipper only to realize that it was now sopping wet. Huffing irritably, he stepped out of the slipper and picked it up, not particularly looking forward to continuing his walk barefooted. He took one step forward, only to have a sharp and very painful point poke into his toe on the right foot.

Off with the other slipper. And... there was a rock in it. A pointy stone. And the remains of what would have been a water balloon in the other. How had Luke Skywalker gained access to his slippers and why would he do this? Furthermore, the boy needed to be kept away from potentially dangerous construction areas.

Speak of the devil... "Security alert: Child in the cafeteria. I repeat, there is an unattended child in the cafeteria." came over the intercom.

Hobbling over to it with his now sore foot, Tarkin summoned every ounce of dignity remaining in his weary but sleepless body and said into the wall-comm, with perhaps less than his usual professionalism. "Is it a blond boy? It's Luke Skywalker."

The hapless lieutenant or whoever it was at the other end gasped sharply at the idea of having to alert Vader to his son's nightly wanderings.

Feeling recklessly merciful, Tarkin sighed, and said "I'll go tell him. Cancel the alert."

Sadly glancing one last time at the scattered playthings, he turned to tromp off to the Sith's temporary quarters on this major prolonged construction project.


End file.
